Three Is The Loneliest Number
by Katrina Puffinstuf
Summary: What happens when two men fall in love with the same woman? What happens when that woman loves them both too much to let go of either of them? hg/rw; hg/ss.
1. Chapter 1

-1A/N: I have been watching the TV show House, M.D. lately. By lately, I mean that my wonderful roomie has every episode from seasons one through four on DVD. Righteous. Downside? This is why I haven't been writing at all. I was struck with this idea. It may just be a one-shot. It may also be a very long story.

Please read and review, but most importantly, please enjoy.

**Three Is The Loneliest Number**

Chapter 1:

The grounds of Hogwarts were as beautiful as ever. The sky was such a clear, striking blue, and the impressive figure of the castle against the majestic mountains created a magnificent scene, playing our right before Ron Weasley's eyes--complete with twittering birds and the occasional purring puffskein. The sublime sight mocked him and his current plight--complete with a adultery and blatant lies.

Moments before arriving at the gates of Hogwarts, he had kissed his girlfriend good-bye, telling her that he would be gone for at least two hours--a lie of his own to tell _her. _Kingsley, to her knowledge, had called him in for catch-up on the paperwork revolving around the capture of two young men that had attacked a Muggle woman. Hermione knew that this was a particularly nasty case, or at least, Ron hoped she did, for this would give her the notion that he may be away from their flat for awhile. In turn, this notion would give way to her being alone. When she was alone…

Ron never had caught her with her lover, although there were tell-tale signs that Hermione had more than just a school-girl crush on someone that she knew. The poorly-concealed hickeys upon her neck were just one of the multitude of physical signs that he witnessed in the past month. Just this Saturday, she had come back from the school for summer holiday, her lips nearly purple, as if she had just braved a raging snowstorm. The problem was that the temperature was at least seventy degrees, and the wind was as calm as it could be. Purpled lips could mean that she got into a fistfight and took one to the face… or, it could mean that she had been…

Ron never could bring himself to confront her about it. There were times, at first, that he thought he actually had given the hickeys. However, when he consciously tried to give her a love-bite one night, she had vehemently exclaimed, "Ronald, you know how much I _hate_ that. You're acting like a vampire." With that, she rolled away from him. That night, Ron almost couldn't bear sleeping in the same bed with her; it would be hard for anyone to sleep next to who they thought was the love of their life, knowing that they had _been _with another man.

Eventually, he had resigned to the fact that his Hermione, the innocuous girl that he had known throughout his childhood, his sweetheart, was no longer satisfied with all that he gave her, all of the love that he had. And so, this lead him to a three-week long investigation; his only accomplice was his best friend.

Harry refused to believe that Hermione would ever consciously cheat on him, but she did not see the purpled lips or the nearly black hickeys that were upon her otherwise unblemished skin. All the same, he agreed to help tail her while she was away teaching at Hogwarts. They had a house elf tail her as best as he could around wherever she went during those last three weeks of school. The house elf initially reported that she was going to Hogsmeade quite a lot, and Ron had initially thought that she was meeting her lover _there_. At one point, he Apparated to Hogsmeade, desiring to catch her in the act with the other man, or at least confront them together. However, when he did spot her, she was only going into the apothecary alone. He had stayed until she had come out of the store before going to see her. She actually looked _pleased_ to see Ron, admitting to him that she often frequented the apothecary to buy necessary things for her latest experiment, as Snape would not usually let her use his own stores.

For some reason, this gave Ron a feeling of ease. Perhaps, he was mistaken, and those hickeys were not really hickeys at all. And the purpling lips? Yes, perhaps she takes one of those women's kickboxing classes, and sometimes, at least every weekend, she gets kicked in the face and neck, for that would explain the hideous hickeys.

Harry eventually informed Ron, after a night of heavy drinking and drowning one's sorrows in the sauce, that she probably wasn't getting hit in the face every weekend. In fact, he was now swayed that she was cheating on him, indefinitely.

"_What_?" spluttered Ron, mead dripping from his lips and onto his sweater. "But it was _you _didn't think she'd have the guts to--"

Harry clapped his friend on his back saying, "I know, I never thought she would have the audacity--"

"Audaci-what?" hiccupped Ron, taking another swig of his drink. "Do you have proof?" He eyed his best friend, who had stayed mute after he asked his question. His eyes, however, betrayed him ever so slightly as their gaze moved to his hand, which was grasped around something small and glass. Ron thrust out his hand, grabbing Harry's, saying, "Give that here! If it's proof, I should see it!"

"Ron, not here, this isn't the place!" cried Harry as they struggled. Ron, being the stronger of the two, however, won out. Still his grip was not steady enough, and the small vial tumbled to the floor, crashing. Smoke and mist billowed from the tiny container, and suddenly, the shrill voice of the Hogwarts house elf named Jilly rang throughout the bar.

"Master Harry," bowed the young elf, "Jilly has found something that Master Ronald was searching for… Proof that the Transfiguration teacher is with that man!"

Ron surged towards the misty memory's figure, his hands clasped over his ears and running into his hair. In an agonizing tone, he asked the elf that did not hear him, "What man? I never was specific about a _man_! Harry, who did you make her follow?!" He turned to Harry, who had his head in his hands now.

"I… had my suspicions after I had Ginny talk to her last Saturday," he said, before being cut off by the elf out of Harry's memory.

"..and Jilly saw her enter his laboratory. She did this often… she makes _experiments _with him at night sometimes…"

"Experiments?!" shrieked Ron, drunkenly falling to his knees in front of the elf. "Is that a code word for _shagging him?!_"

The house elf continued, unphased, saying, "…but _this_ time, she did not bring her tools… she wore a dress without robes… "

Ron was beside himself now with anger and sadness. He thrust his hand out towards the elf, as if to grasp it, but it just went through the image as it kept talking, "And then, he called for a bottle of his aged elf-made wine, for the young lady, he said. Before I left, I heard her say, "Severus, you can cut the foreplay and--"

Ron punched out at the misted elf and hit the stool that lay directly behind where "she" was standing, still muttering about the elf-made wine and other things that she had witnessed concealed behind a tapestry. His face was ghastly grey and looked as if he was about to vomit. He looked up at Harry, muttering one word with a growl, "_Snape_?"

And so, Ron had resolved _still_ not to confront Hermione about her flings with the Potions professor. Instead, he would go straight to the source of corruption. He stood in front of the gates to Hogwarts, waiting for Argus Filch to allow him passage into the office of the man that was truly getting the best of him--his girlfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

-1Chapter 2:

Ron knocked heavily and rapidly upon the door. He knew that Snape was sitting there, behind his desk, snidely grading papers and leering at how stupid all of his students appeared to be. It was common knowledge that he never went home for the summer; instead, he endeavored to create potions and experiments of his own. Hogwarts conveniently provided a store of ingredients, from the common to the exotic, something he could not easily or cheaply get anywhere else. If he wasn't there, he could only assume that Hermione had summoned him over to the flat. For she was alone, and when she was alone…

"Yes," answered a gravelly voice suddenly from behind the door, causing Ron's heart to nearly leap out of his chest in fright. "Who is it?"

"An old student of yours, Professor, _sir_," said Ron scathingly. For a moment, there was silence and then a rustling of paper, footsteps, and the door creaking open.

Ron stood at nearly the same height as his old professor, and his light eyes bore into his dark, brooding ones. They both possessed rather large noses, and while they were so close face to face, they were almost touching.

"I need to speak with you in private," said Ron through gritted teeth. "Your office will do nicely."

For a moment, the professor looked upon him with great disdain, as if he had no right to be making demands to enter his office. However, to Ron's slight surprise, he looked him over once again, eventually nodding and saying, "Yes, I suppose we ought to get on with this."

With that, Snape retreated back into his office, leaving the door open for Ron to follow him inside. Ron had taken off his outer robes, the primal instinct to pounce on the man who had taken his girl for himself nearly unbearable. He wanted to hit that scowling face so badly that his hands were involuntarily curling into fists as he stood there, facing the man who had his back turned to him.

Ron found that it was hard to begin a conversation with the man that was shagging the love of his life. He opened his mouth once, and then shut it, wanting to deliver the best possible opening line to his rant.

"Well, Mr. Weasley," began Professor Snape, still turned away from Ron, "since talking and other intelligent forms of communication never _were_ your strong suit, I'll begin." He turned around, a wise-ass smirk on his face, saying, "Hello, Mr. Weasley. You're looking dapper today. Oh, and by the way, I'm shagging your girl."

In a flash, Ron was nearly at the other man's throat with his wand, but Snape was invariably quicker, casting a shield charm protectively around himself. Ron grunted with frustration. "I ought to kill you," he growled, throwing his ultimately useless wand aside. "We should settle this like men."

Snape dropped the false smirk immediately after hearing that. "Really? What a shame, Mr. Weasley, just because you haven't practiced any defense spells since old Voldemort's gone to pot? An Auror is not nearly as hard as it used to be, eh?"

"You tell me what's happened," he said, dancing on the melancholic line between anger and intense sadness. "I don't want to hear it from her."

"Don't want to tarnish her pristine image of the good little Gryffindor?" he said sarcastically. "Don't want her to admit that she has slept with the snake… and _liked_ it?"

Ron threw himself at the shield charm. "Eat shit, Snape. You're a coward if you don't tell me, and even more so if you don't face me afterwards."

"I will not eat feces, Mr. Weasley," said Professor Snape. "But, I suppose I can tell you how your young lady won over my affections," he said dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead mockingly. "Oh, 'tis a sweet tale of--"

"Get on with it," rasped Ron.

"She was rather persistent to be in my presence," he said, pacing within the confines of his shield charm. "After all, she was my partner in the lab before she was my partner in--oh, come now, you confronted _me_ about it," he said as Ron beat his fists upon the barrier between the two of them. "It would have saved you quite a lot of agony if you would have gotten _her_ sordid version of it; how _I_ seduced her, and how she couldn't help but bow to my wishes, for I threatened to hurt her and kill her family and her little dog, too, for good measure." Ron blinked up at him in disbelief, about to reply. Snape cut off his sentence, choking back a mirthless laugh, saying, "Oh, yes, she was _right_. You would have _loved _to believe that convenient little lie. Believe me, Weasley, you would have preferred the lie."

Ron was breathing heavily, his face flushed with hues of pink and red, his palms flat on the desk in front of him. He stared up into the cold eyes of Severus Snape, saying, "If you didn't seduce her, then…"

"This was not a game of seduction," said Snape, looking away from Ron, the tiniest hint of something indicative of lusting in his deep tones. "It began when I called for an assistant for my newest experiment. I had posted the notice in the staff room, and believe me, I did not _want _that girl standing next to me, getting chatty and bragging about how she graduated at the top of her class at university and all of that brownnosing poppycock." He examined his fingernails as he spoke to Ron, as if this paltry conversation that was neatly dismantling his former student's life was just another irritating _thing_ he had to do.

"Still, she was the only one who filled out the application. In fact, each time I rejected her, she sent in a new application," he said, almost laughing. "The girl, however, filled in an application under a false name, and I grew excited. True, when she showed up that first day, claiming that she really _was_ Rolf Scamander, I felt thwarted. Moments later, we were working, and she was, as I predicted, apple-polishing and talking up a storm. Not that you need reminding how nagging she can be, eh?"

Ron stood mute, sweating profusely, fixated on the man in front of him; as much as he did not want to hear the story of Hermione's infidelity from the man she was committing the scandal with, he was somehow enraptured with the tale. "Keep going," he whispered. He gulped audibly. Snape kept speaking.

"I didn't know how to shut her up," said Snape, who had resumed pacing. "True, she was helping me, but she was like a mosquito in my ear… buzzing incessantly, such a bother. At first, I told her that I would stop her pay. She told me that she would do it _'for the sake of the knowledge_' and that money was no object. Again, thwarted! She was too clever for a girl, so obviously, I would have to be equally as clever, playing to her weaknesses."

"You would have no idea of her weaknesses!" said Ron loudly. "You bastard, you don't even _know_ her…"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" yelled Professor Snape. "Oh… pardon me, old habits die hard." The older man chuckled.

"Stop making light of this," said Ron seriously. Again, Snape chuckled.

"It's easier to look on the bright side of life if you're getting laid," said the professor, running a hand through his hair. "Clearly, between the two of us, I'm more cheerful. But that's neither here nor there, at this point." He cleared his throat pompously and said, "Where was I? Oh yes, Miss Granger and the fact that her mouth needed to close before I chained it shut. Right, so, one night, we were working late. She had been taking notes upon a new procedure I was performing with the stewing, and she kept chatting up a storm, as if she thought I would actually _answer_ this time around. Honestly, I was about to strangle her, so I asked her a question that shut her up for good."

Snape paused here for good measure, clearly allowing the dramatic effect to take hold over the younger man, who stood in the torturing silence on the brink of tears or perhaps throwing the desk through the window, whatever came first.

"I asked her if she would like to take a break and get a quickie in," he said all too seriously.

"What?! And _then_ she slept with you??"

"Oh, don't be so thick-headed, Weasley, Granger is _not_ an easy lay," said Snape. "I asked her out on a date. What better way to throw off the thought processes of any witch between the ages of 4 and 143 by suddenly deciding to offer her affection? Especially when it is your esteemed, yet anti-social, rather ugly, 'misunderstood' old Potion's professor! I felt myself to be a genius, for she shut her mouth tightly and wallowed in the depths of her mind and _heart_." He said the word 'heart' with a scoff, causing Ron to snarl at him like a rabid dog.

"So, she had remained silent for a month straight, save for any talk of the experiment. I was amazed at my brilliance and felt curious as to how to further silence her, just in case she would grow tired of wondering why nasty Professor Snape was interested in her. I asked her another question. I asked her if the reason she had not accepted my request was because she was seeing someone."

"You evil _bastard_… you manipulated her!" said Ron.

Snape continued, not phased by Ron's sudden revelation, which seemed all too obvious to himself. "She did not tell me until about a half-hour later that she was, in fact, dating someone. Dating _you_. She went on a short rant about how you two are just so happy together, and she made subtle hints about how she would have expected you to be better in bed, given the relative size of your nose and your, well…"--he nodded towards Ron's lower half, causing Ron's face to contort in disgust. "Funnily enough, she had never spoken of you until I had brought it up. I was so interested, that I allowed her to talk for a few minutes longer before deciding to shut her up again."

"What did she say?" asked Ron desperately.

"She spoke of how you two had good conversation, but nothing that ran too deep. She kept making references to how talking with you was like playing in the shallow end of the pool. It's fun until you try and take a dive… you just end up hurting yourself. Interesting analogy. She then began talking about your sex life, to which I conveniently tuned out, all except for the part where she said that you never treated her the way she wanted to be."

"I've never _not _pleased her!" shrilled Ron. "I've made her say things that I'd never thought I'd hear her say, make her want things I never thought a girl like her could _want_!"

"Mr. Weasley, rule number one about women," said the professor, "is that nine times out of ten, they are not enjoying the poking and prodding nearly as much as they could be. They don't want to hurt the man's feelings and fragile ego. They fake. She all but confessed this to me that day. And so, my intrigue was satiated, and I shut her up. This time, I really _did_ ask her for a quickie in the store room. She stayed mute and blushed really quite red. For some reason, I felt the need to press this issue. I explained to her the usual, no one will have to know, it would be a secret one time thing. I don't think she understood that I wasn't being serious."

"That's all? _Then _she slept with you?" Ron asked incredulously, his jaw dropped.

"No, you insipid boy!" shouted Snape, losing his grip on himself for the first time. "I told you that Granger was _not_ an easy lay! Get this through your head! You think that just because she wasn't faithful to you means that she jumped into my bed! Stop thinking in terms of black and white!"

"How can I not! She either is faithful or she isn't!" Ron yelled back.

"It is not so simple, Mr. Weasley!" he yelled. "You don't choose who you fall in love with!"

"Yes, you…!" began Ron with a yell, only to trail off, looking into the man's eyes. They were furious. It was only then did he realize the shield charm between them had vanished. He almost lunged at him, but there was something that the dark-haired man had left unspoken, and this scared him stiffly more than anything that he had heard since the days of Voldemort. He stood his ground, saying, only a single, questioning word. "Love?"

"Sure, she had stayed silent throughout a few more lab sessions," said Snape quietly, pacing again. "She was now doing something significantly more intimidating--she was watching me. She scrutinized my every move, and instead of simply taking notes on the potion I was brewing, she simultaneously started taking notes on _me. _My physique, my reactions, my remarks, my voice, even. I was shocked when I found those 'notes' one evening while she had run down to the toilet. The parchment was so structured and tabled, a perfect study… she was studying me. I confronted her, and she felt ashamed. She turned red… I harangued her about it, berated her. She cried… oh, she really did cry an awful lot in the beginning…"

Ron's demeanor had changed in an enormous way as the man spoke of his girlfriend in such a way. He was no longer clenching his fists or teeth. Now, he was trembling with fear. The word love had never crossed his mind in the search for this mystery man that was the object of her lust. Now, he was speaking in a way that was almost tender.

"I… felt as if I had perhaps overreacted. I told her this, and she cried more. She started mumbling about the fact that she really did love, well, _you_, but she was so intensely attracted to _me_. She admitted to her admiration of me… about how she adored my expanse of knowledge, of all I could teach her. But I didn't press her for anything, I didn't say anything. I went back to work. Minutes later, she's on top of me."

Ron was blatantly sobbing. "You should have stopped her," he said, his voice shaking wildly. "She didn't know what she wanted… she didn't…"

Snape continued with, "I explicitly told her that it would not happen again. I told her afterwards, right after it happened. She started bitching about how I led her on and how I--"

"You did lead her on! You asked her out! You asked her for sex!" said Ron angrily.

"I was just joking," he said almost passively, with a wave of his hand.

"If she respects you as much as you say she does, then there is no way she could have taken that as a joke," he said. "You used her. You knew that by shutting her up, you were effectively planting the seed in her head that you wanted her. You used her love for knowledge--"

"It's a _lust_ for knowledge, really," said Snape, closing his eyes, almost smiling. "As you can see, she goes to absurd, obsessive, great lengths to acquire it. _Very_ great lengths."

"Stop enjoying this! Stop thinking about her!" Ron cried.

"Mr. Weasley, are you using Legilimency on me?" he said sarcastically. "How would you ever know that I was thinking about the girl at this very moment?"

Ron was tearing out his hair. "Tell me this? If you said it wasn't to continue, how come she was coming home on weekends with hickeys and marks? She tried to cover them, but she was always awful with beauty charms. Why did you keep it up?"

"As I said earlier, she was always very persistent when it came to being around me," he said. "I fired her from the position of being my personal note-taker. She still came back anyway, helping me. More so, she began her own experimenting. She helped me with my major breakthrough. If you've been reading the Daily Prophet lately, you'll see that there is a new product on the market. It helps bring ease and order into the lives and minds of victim's of severe use of the Cruciatus curse. Perhaps, if you spoke the woman you supposedly love about things other than the mundane, you would have realized that she, nearly single-handedly, is the reason that Mr. Longbottom now has lucid parents again."

He spoke all of this with a terse tone. Ron's heart ached with searing pains. He finally let himself drop into a chair, his head in his hands. "Why would she work so hard? Work so hard, and not tell anyone?"

"After years of observing the way she acted throughout her years at Hogwarts and the way she talked about her years at university, I've found that the only way that Granger thinks love can is exist is through a series of tests. She sees life itself as a big examination, because test-taking and problem-solving are her strongest suits. So, therefore, she thinks love is achieved through proving herself."

"She isn't even mentioned in the article," breathed Ron. "I can hardly believe she wouldn't want anyone to know. She is always--"

"Bragging? Yes, she is a little braggart" he said, almost fondly. "I have deduced that she did not tell anyone because she wanted to prove to me that she, indeed, loved me. Obviously, after she made that breakthrough, she had thoroughly impressed me. I tried to hide it, but I was amazed. The intricacy of what she had to do in order to reverse the effects of such a powerful curse was… unthinkable. Literally, I couldn't reproduce the effect myself without her expert directing. She begged me to receive the credit."

"She didn't want me to know how closely she had been working with you," Ron said.

"You're catching on, Weasley," said Snape, releasing a deep breath. "Yes, so, that night, we had celebrated. I had taken her out to dinner. I did not mean for it to be any more than two friends celebrating a fantastic achievement. However… sometimes even _I _forget about the power that a woman can have over a man…"

Ron had all but given up; his shoulders were shrugged and he was slumped against a table, his head resting in the palm of his hand, his face unimaginably pale and glum. "So, what power did she exercise over you, Professor Snape? Severus? Can I call you Severus? After all, you did stick your wiener in my girlfriend. I suppose that means we can be on a first-name basis."

"No, it doesn't," said Professor Snape, who also now took a seat. "And the power? Why, the power of a woman's beauty, Mr. Weasley, surely you would understand. You've witnessed her growth into the lovely young woman that she is today."

"Of course… she's very pretty. Everyone thought she used to be ugly… even me. Those teeth. The hair. She changed. We all do. Now everyone loves how she looks." His voice was monotone. The self-loathing that he was now inflicting upon himself was more imminent than ever before. "She's so pretty…" he sighed.

"Pretty? _Pretty_?" spat Snape in a ruthless, bitter tone. "Do you think _that _simply describes her beauty? The curve of her lips when she smiles? The way her body slides under your fingertips as you hold her about the waist, smooth as silk, pale and exquisite. Her eyes… full of emotion and desires like everyone else… but deeper, more expansive, leading to the breathtaking mind behind them. The color doesn't even matter… it's the wonder that lies beneath the surface of those shining gems that ruins me each time I look at her. The delicate way her hands handle tedious tasks that require exactitude and precision boggles my mind… it's a thing of beauty in itself, and it leads to thoughts of those hands elsewhere, particularly upon my person," he paused, only to see Ron looking at him with a face that clearly was attempting to portray incredulity. It was a weak attempt, and Snape continued with, "Notice, Mr. Weasley, that I haven't even mentioned her breasts, which I'm particularly sure that a young man like you spend far too much time grabbing and poking. But, yes, they are very full, supple, and pleasing to the touch."

"I want to vomit," said Ron weakly. "This isn't right…"

"That night, I was dazzled," said Snape embarrassedly. "I feel ashamed to admit it. I really did try to hold up my end of the bargain. I … failed miserably. I took her up for tea. Then, she was ensconced in my arms faster than I could shove her off of me. That split-second of indecision was all it took, and soon, we were back in my bedroom again. It was different this time. She did not cry. She was more exploratory, slightly more provocative. She turned the tables, played to _my _weaknesses, my extraordinary desire to be well-liked, to be accepted and feel attractive, something that I had put aside for half of my life. She brought it out and gratified it. I fell into it and became enamored. I felt her touch and melted into the idea that someone, for once, wanted me more than I wanted them. I heard her breathless exclamations as I pressed myself into her, and found that, indeed, she accepted me heartily. No… even more than acceptance. She cared. She cared as she was made to care… her warm heart loved as she was meant to love--completely. So wonderful, the sublimity of losing oneself in the temporary safe haven of love…"

At last, Ron asked the question that he had been burning to ask for the duration of his visit, particularly when his opponent's tone took a turn for the somber and tranquil--two things that Professor Snape had never seemed to be in their experiences together.

"Do you love her, sir?" he said very professionally, sucking in a breath of air afterwards. "'Cause it really seemed like… before, when we first began talking… that she was just another good shag for you."

"Good shag? _Phenomenal_ shag, Mr. Weasley, make no mistake," said Snape. With a deep breath, he continued with, "Unfortunately, nothing is more than good or great without something more penetrating beneath the surface. I feel like the word 'love' does not accurately give my feelings toward her justice. I feel as if she would agree with me."

Ron sighed, "So, then, she loves you, and not me. It's simple. I ought to dump her. She betrayed me. She'd rather be with you. I just don't understand… if she is so much happier with you, why doesn't she break it off with me, then?"

"Mr. Weasley, you still obviously have not understood the fundamental concept of what I've been trying to say, you do not _choose_ who you love," spoke Professor Snape in a sharp tone.

"You can't love two people at the same time," replied Ron just as sharply.

"So convention says, but I never held store for convention much, and neither does she," said Snape. "Of course she loves you, you idiot! Otherwise, there would _be_ no conversation right now. She _would _have dumped you long ago. Hermione… she isn't afraid of change… but she knows _you_ are. She could never put this on you. Hermione--"

"Don't say her name like that," said Ron pleadingly. "How could she love me and shag you? How could she shag me and love you? If she really loves both of us, how can she handle the guilt that comes with sleeping with us both?"

"Because she isn't playing by the same rules as the rest of the world," said Snape matter-of-factly. "Because she found herself equally loving two men in different ways. If I felt the same way as you did and found myself at your flat desiring to fight the valiant fight for the love of fair Miss Granger… well… you would be six feet under the cold ground, quickly becoming the sustenance for worms and small rodents. Lucky for you, I understand her. You should try it sometime."

"I can't accept this," he said, his hands shaking. "I can't understand why she would want you _and_ me. We are… different people. I'm younger, you're older. I know her, you… work with her and sort of know her."

"You think she is merely pretty, where I find her beauty exhilarating," said Snape in a sarcastic tone.

"She's beautiful, and I love everything about her!" said Ron forcefully.

"And she loves you too," said Snape loudly, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't understand what more you could want out of her, really."

"It shouldn't be both of us, It feels… wrong…" Ron said. "She was the girl I wanted to marry… she can't marry both of us. It's wrong. What about children? I _do_ want a family, and she does, too! So what happens then, Professor, when her children can't wrap their head around the fact that they Mum goes off to see her lover, her other husband every other weekend?"

"I think, in the end, you and I both know that she will choose you as a husband," said Snape in an uncharacteristic soft voice.

Ron expected him to defend his statement, to rebuke it, or to call him an imbecile and muse about the reasons why Hermione would choose such a _boy. _However, Snape simply remained silent, for the first time in the conversation. He sat, looking at Ron from across his desk, his hands neatly folded at around eye level, obstructing his obtrusive nose. Ron stared back equally as intensely, his body splayed across the chair, his weight falling onto his left shoulder, which was pressed into the table.

Ron finally spoke, unable to stay silent any longer. "You think that she would choose me? Why? And what happens then? Do the late night experiments still turn into booty calls, or can I trust her once she truly becomes my wife?"

"That is up to her, I think," said Snape in even, measured syllables. He drummed his fingers on the table, and Ron simply looked away from the man. He didn't know what to think, anymore. This was a realm that he was unused to, the ideals that were thrust upon him foreign and terrifying. Hermione loving two men? Not possible. Not in _his_ mind. Could he adapt? Could he get used to the idea that his old, hated professor was the _other_ object of her affection?

"I think I need to leave," said Ron in a monotone voice. "I can't do this anymore. You can have her. I love her… but I can't… I can't live with it." With that, he turned his back on the man that just threw his life into a world that did not seem to be real. Love was never supposed to be like this. He grabbed his cloak and walked out of the professor's office and shut the door behind him quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

-1Chapter 3:

Ron had Apparated to the doorstep of the flat that Hermione and he shared for three years. She was sitting inside, curled up with a book, reading--he was sure of this. He was so certain, before, that she would have invited _him_ over at the first notion that she was going to be alone for a long period of time. He knew, now, that she was probably doing what she enjoyed the most while she was in that flat without Ron around… reading. Because Ron never understood the things she loved, and she always catered to him while he was around. She hardly thought of herself while he was around… and he never knew that until his conversation with Professor Snape. His eyes were opened more than he ever wanted them to be.

Turning the doorknob and pushing the door open, he found that he was, in fact, correct. She was curled up reading in the comfortable, plush armchair that they cuddled in from time to time. She turned around to face him, putting down her book immediately, saying, "You were running late… Kingsley had a lot of paperwork for you?"

"What?" asked Ron, clearly forgetting about his lie from earlier that morning. "Oh… yes, I mean… work sucked."

Hermione eyed Ron closely, noting his sunken eyes and saddened features. "Darling, really, you don't look well at all. What happened on the way home?"

"It isn't fun finding out things you never wanted to know," he said with a sigh. He collapsed in the chair that she was previously in. It was still warm from where she was curled up peacefully.

A look of uneasiness flashed across her face, and she bit her lip. "About the case?"

Ron opened his mouth, ready to throw it all on her… the fact that she cheated… the fact that she loved another man… someone that he hated, a person that was so _not _like him that he could not understand how she could truly spread her love between two completely different men. It was hard for him to grasp that there was an entirely different Hermione that he had never figured out… never discovered for himself--and Snape did. Snape _could_. It tore him apart inside.

He looked at her, her concerned eyes, wondering if the concern was truly there, if Snape was, indeed right--that she loved them _both_. Or was that concern just a cover-up? Were her emotions false? She gave him a blanket and a warm mug of steaming tea. She cuddled up next to him, and Ron fought like hell to stop the urge of throwing the deceitful girl off of his lap and onto the ground where he wanted to think she belonged.

He couldn't.

"Yes… from the case, babe," he said, taking the mug and sipping from it noisily. The tea warmed his insides and he laid his head away from her, onto the armrest of the deep-seated chair. "'Mione… I've got something to ask you…" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?" she asked, laying her head upon his shoulder.

"Would you say that you are pretty or beautiful?" he said, his voice almost trembling.

Hermione stared at him disbelievingly. "What kind of question is that to ask your girlfriend?"

"Look, I'm not going to think you are a bitch if you are confident of your looks," he said, letting his harshness come through momentarily. "I just… I'm sorry about that. I just want to know about… what _you_ think."

"Oh, well…" said Hermione, her analyzing face coming immediately to cover her tender and caring face. "I think I could be considered pretty. I mean, it isn't like I have that perfect, classically beautiful face. My hair is ridiculous unless I put the hair serum in it every five hours, it's not long and flowing, like beautiful people have. But pretty… pretty is something that I think I could do. Not that prettiness is important compared to other things in life…"

Ron was biting his lip and curling his hand into a fist. "What other things in life?" he said, trying not to grit his teeth, trying to remember that she _did_ love him… she _did…_

"Like curiosity and knowledge," she began, leaning towards Ron's ears. "And _love_…" she whispered into his ear, brushing her lips on his earlobe as she drew breath. "Love and _pleasure…" _

"What of honesty and loyalty?" he said after a deep breath. Immediately, Hermione withdrew her head away from his own, looking at him with a penetrating stare. Ron's intense glare countered hers, and she moved off of his lap deftly.

Silence ensued as the two stared each other down, each of the two desperately wanting to look away; this was an impossibility. The dishonesty here was too thick, too all-encompassing. The silence was penetrated only by the soft ruffling of the curtains in the breeze of the open window and the sound of muffled footsteps padding down the hall.

"You know, then," she said softly, her voice cracking a little. "How long?"

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, the idea that she could love two people equally totally flying out the window. "A month. It's been going on awhile, though, hasn't it?"

She almost winced at the harsh tone that he used on her. "And you know that it's…"

"Snape? Yeah, I do," said Ron shortly, taking some pleasure in the way she actually did draw away from hearing the other man's name uttered by her own boyfriend.

"How did you…" she began, cutting herself off only to begin again. "You wouldn't have understood it, Ronald. You wouldn't have accepted it… never have believed me!" The tears came freely now, and she moved closer to Ron, who neither moved away nor took her hand. He simply stared at her, unable to find the words to explain himself in such uncharted territory.

"Ronald, I can love you and still feel love for another, and that doesn't detract from the way I feel about you," she pleaded. Ron looked away, staying silent. "See! You _don't _get it… you _don't _understand!"

"I understand perfectly well," said Ron quietly. "What I don't understand is how you don't get to comparing the two men you claim to love equally. What do you see in him, eh? What do you see in me?"

"I see so much in you, Ron!" she squealed through tears, attempting to clutch at his hand, which he whipped away a moment before she touched. "You are brave and trustworthy--"

"Which is clearly a quality you happen to lack as of late!" replied Ron bitterly.

"…strong and handsome and loyal…"

"Yet another thing you _aren't_!"

"…caring and emotional… I love those things about you!" she finished, finally. She was nearly panting, tears still streaming in full-force across and down her face. She knelt next to Ron's chair.

"You are forgetting about a few other things that you happen to love in particular men," spoke Ron dryly. "You never mentioned smart with me… you never mentioned experienced and well-known with me! You never mentioned cunning and clever and witty and sneaky and all of the other _stupid_ things the flipping sorting hat says about Slytherin! Do you realize that this is the man that made you cry when you were a little girl? _Do you_? Do you recognize the fact that treated us like shit? How many detentions did you serve for _no reason_ with him? How many times did he hurt your feelings by attacking upon your weaknesses?! Who did you come crying to when that happened? _Who, Hermione?!_"

Hermione was sobbing in earnest, now, beside herself with grief, as if her father or mother was bleeding out before her eyes. She begged Ron, "Please, stop! I love you, I _really_--"

"_YOU LOVE HIM TOO! HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!" _he screamed at her, towering above her as he stood up while she groveled at his feet. He was seething… anger had gotten the best of him, and now the beast within was in full control. Primal. Awful. Terrifying. Nothing could stop him. He could berate her just like her precious professor did all of those years, if wrath was what she apparently got off on, he could accommodate her nicely. He could--

Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. Pause. Taptap. These peculiar knocks came from the door. Both Hermione and Ron looked curiously towards the door. Ron still scowled, but Hermione's face blanched as their visitor repeated the same curious pattern of knocks once more. She turned around from where she knelt and could not face again. The code of special knocks and the fact that Hermione was terrified of them came together in his head. He got up and strode over to the door.

"Let's see who it is, shall we, Hermione dearest?" he said, his voice saturated with sarcasm as he touched his hand to the doorknob. "Perhaps it's the milkman delivering our milk. Or…" He swung the door open. Not to his surprise at all, Severus Snape stood in the doorway, dressed to the nines (well, as close to the nines as a person such as Snape could humanly achieve).

Ron gave the man a troubling smirk, a smirk that would have better befit the lips of the professor rather than the redheaded man that greeted him. "Honey, there's a _man_ at the door for _you_!" he called into the room in a vicious singsong voice.

Ron could see Hermione slink into his peripheral field of vision; he did not acknowledge her.

Snape laughed to himself, scanning the berated looking Hermione and the painfully terrifying and ruthless Ron. "What a curious _ménage a trois_ we have here…"


End file.
